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BASTARDS WHO FUCKED OVER ME
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8 Maynard and Marshall rumored to be doing it.
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If our 'hood had a bad ass, it was Maynard. He even looked like
Maynard G Krebs. Marshall was the miniature Dobie but with dark
hair, if you remember the Dobie Gillis teevee series. Maynard
was feared and eschewed by nearly everybody because he had been
in Fort Grant, the state industrial school for boys, and rode a
motorcycle.
Maynard had no use for all his stuck-up and self-righteous
neighbors. He'd as likely give you the finger and yell Fuck You
as tell you what time it was. He thought I was a little pussy.
Evidently he'd heard about my extracurricular activites. I never
approached him for fear he would beat my ass. He was also, at
sixteen, the hairiest person I had ever seen. Ick.
The only time I ever spent in his presence was once when I was
passing by and he hailed me. I figured if he wanted to bash me
for being a fruit I might as well let him because he would get me
eventually. I guess I _was_ a pussy. I went into his house and
we sat on the couch. He asked if I wanted a beer. I didn't like
the smell and declined. There were two cans from a six-pack on
the coffee table. I figured the other four were already in
Maynard.
He popped the fifth one and took a long pull, slammed the can
down, and belched loudly and longly like my old man did when he
wanted to piss off my mother. Word around the neighborhood is
that you're a queer, he declared. Uh oh. Here it comes. I need
to get ready to die. Might as well tough it out. So? Well,
Maynard said, it's okay with me if you want to be a faggot dick
smoker, but you better be careful who knows about it.
You know Marshall? he said. Yeah. If I told you I fucked
Marshall's ass would you believe me? I said No, I wouldn't.
Well, you better get used to it, Maynard said. He made two
triangular holes in the last beer with the copper A-1 brand
"church key".
Cattle and copper, the two cash crops in Arizona. Both were
rediculously plentiful then and used for everything. A-1 Beer,
the official Phoenix brew, was enjoyed from beaner bars like
Conchita's Place on South 16th to the rarified patios at Del
Webb's Mountain Shadows Resort in Scottsdale. Here was Maynard
getting sloppy and giving the beverage a bad name.
Yeah, he said , Marshall's a fairy just like you. You two
ought to get together and wear dresses. I told him as calmly as
I would have a hanging judge that I didn't feel the need to try
to be a girl. Maynard allowed that Marshall didn't go for that
shit either. Maynard couldn't figure out how a guy could be a
queer and look normal when another guy could paint his face and
put on a dress and be queer. This is all a joke, ain't it,
Maynard asked.
I said I guessed it all depended upon what you wanted to do, how
you wanted people to see you. Oh well bullshit, Maynard hissed.
Everybody knows you're a fat fairy. I oughtta beat your ass for
being a fuckin' fruitcake but you never did anything to piss me
off. I felt like I had half a reprieve from my death sentence.
I carefully ventured a question. (If there is anything
unstoppable in a queen it's the compulsion to go after some good
dish!) Um, did you _really_ do it to Marshall, I asked.
Yeah, I did. Maynard sat back and looked pleased with himself.
He continued, Marshall heard about you and he said he wanted to
do it to a guy but he didn't know how to get next to you. I
volunteered that I thought Marshall knew about me but that he
didn't approve of me because he never spoke to me. Yeah, Maynard
said, I told you he was a pussy. Maynard said, I set him
straight that he sure as hell wasn't going to try any shit with
me -- that if he wanted to be broke in good, I could do it cuz I
had me some _good_ bitches when I was at Fort Grant.
So, what I'm tellin' ya is, I fucked Marshall's tight little ass
and he smoked my dick a few times. Hell, me and my girlfriend
were on the outs and I don't like usin' Rosie Palm and her five
sisters cuz you can go blind that way. Look atchou -- got the
thickest motherfuckin' glasses I ever saw. Maybe Marshall will
let you fuck him so you don't ruin your eyes.
I knew if I laughed, I was dead dead dead. He would smash me
like a bug. I said halfheartedly, Thanks for the suggestion; I
gotta get home. Maynard wobbled to the door and saw me out. I
never did approach Marshall. I was afraid what I'd heard was a
bunch of alcoholic ranting or I'd been bullshitted like never
before. A little later I got involved with Keith who claimed to
know for fact that Maynard fucked Marshall. (
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